Playing The Part

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Psychedelic, Mar 29, 2013.

  1. The day was not cold, nor was it terribly mild. It was one of those days that seemed to inevitably result in the discomfort of any creature with enough modesty to wear clothes. The wind was chilly, and hardly predictable. The air was stirred in great gusts, though the buildings of the city - as well as the trees of the forest - served to block a great deal of the biting wind. Even so, for those that conducted business at the docks at the eastmost point of the settlement, heavy attire was a must. At least the sun was out. In places, where the wind was not too high, and structures - natural or manmade - did not interrupt the suns rays, it was a positively wonderful day. Unfortunately, there were few of these places in which to hide, and few people still that had enough time to waste on frivolities such as enjoying the weather. For most, the weather was merely a practical part of life. It dictated the abundance of this years crop, the health of livestock, and comfort was simply a bonus.

    The city itself was a sprawling network of various districts, most of which blurred into one another. The main gate, situated to the south, was where most tradesmen entered. The markets were confined to this area, and every Thursday the city became even more packed than usual, as all sorts of peddlers invaded the place, along with scores of livestock of varying species. To the east, the fish market bled into the main dock. This area was dominated by vast warehouses, full of cargo, both legal and not. It was a hub of crime, and also where most of the taverns happened to be. Unfortunately, men of already questionable morals gathered here, and it was this bringing together of beer and brutes that led to an incredibly high murder rate. But, as long as the crime was kept to tIhe lower echelons of society, there would be no real call for changes to be made.

    North of the hub of all things criminal, lay the homes of nobility, as well as the guilds and residences of skilled craftsmen, not to mention the rich merchants. There was also a third entrance to the city, through which only vetted peoples could enter. It allowed them to avoid being pickpocketed, or worse, as they ran the gauntlet through the mercantile district. Of course, there was crime in this area of the city, it was merely well hidden. Murders were attributed to corrupt staff - and so the assassinations continued. It was all thanks to the guard turning a blind eye. As long as the nobles were happy, the coffers would remain full, and life would be good. This area was well guarded, and was almost a second city of its own. It was rare for anyone other than house staff or foreign visitors to see beyond the stone wall that protected the well to do men and women from the riffraff. On ocassion a burglar managed to find his way over the fence, but these were inevitably made examples to the community. The Baron that held order in the city, led with an ironfist, which the guard were all too keen to utilise. Although it might have seemed barbaric to some, his zero tolerance policy had at least lowered the crime rate a little, though it still remained rather high.

    Finally, the western portion of the city was simply the place where most of the people lived. It had its problems, much like all the other districts, but for the most part it was a rather hum drum area. Unfortunately, few of the men and women that lived here had any time to spend here, or posessions worth stealing. There was little in the way of policing in this area, though courtesy rounds were made. And of course, taxes were always collected.

    The city itself was open to the elements, as it was situated in a relatively open area. Although a large forest sprawled just a few miles away, the majority of the land was flat and ideally suited to farming. It was this that had caused the place to become populated initially, and had subsequently resulted in the wealth of many who lived there. Farming was a hard life, but it was nothing compared to what many endured. The citizens had only to think of arid lands or snowtopped mountains to realise how lucky they truly were. Needless to say, few ever did this. Their lot in life was theirs to groan over, and so they did.

    Today was a Wednesday. As the general open market took place the following day, it was a considerably busier time than some of the other days of the week. Merchants that travelled to various locations throughout the country inevitably arrived on this day, and so the gates were inundated with a steady stream of rabble. Some peddled jewellery, others sold their fattened pigs, competing with the locals for a share of the wealth. Given that it was an export ccity, it was lucrative to come here, although a certainamount of risk remained, but this was apparently outweighed by the potential gains. So they just kept coming.

    One man among the influx of merchants did not quite fit. He was not frightening in his manner, it was merely the extent of his finely crafted armour, along with the lethal arsenal of weaponry he carried that caused many others to give him a slightly wider berth than they might usually have. He was built like an ox, strong, sturdy and imposing. And as luck would have it, he stepped in the leavings of said animal. The stench was more telling than the squelch, as the path into the city was already rather ruinously churned. The man glanced down at his foot, just checking that it wasn't anything more untoward than a cowpat. He continued on his way, as did everyone else that stepped in these unpleasant things. Even the barefoot just had to accept it as part of life.

    Kain made his way quietly through the mash of bodies seeking entry to the city. He did not use his bulk to force his way past the weaker, although he did use it to keep others from taking advantage. It only took him his standing his ground to cause any impatient men and women to back off, and he barely even knew the effect he was having. Had he really thought about it, his actions wouldn't have changed. There was no discernible reason to batter ones way into the city. There was plenty of time until the gate closed at sundown, it was not even noon.

    When noon did finally come around, the anonymous man found himself within the city. He was slightly on edge, though he masked this well - not that it was difficult to do so when your face happens to be almost entirely covered by a helmet. Unfortunately for the curious, the eyes alone did not always give away too much about ones emotions. In truth, Kain was well aware that he now had just four days and a handful of hours to kill his next victim. He had planned his journey from an inland city to take only a week or so, but he had been blighted with many misfortunes. As a result, he had very little to scout a likely deserving soul, and less time still to actually do the deed.

    Over the years, he had been in closer shaves, but it was not something he ever got used to. Why would he? He had no wish to die, and so he remained ever vigilant. The long striding man made his way through the dirt, away from the stench and noise of filthy animals, and towards the distinct aroma of alcohol, sea and blood. It was the perfect place for a man such as him. Kain knew that he would root out a target by nightfall, he had onnly to be patient.

    The tavern which he chose to use as his resting place, as well as surveillance point was beyond old. He wasn't sure whether the name of the place had been weathered away with age, or else covered with a quite frankly impressive amount of dirt. Whatever the case, it was just the sort of establishment that criminals frequented. It was dark and hazy inside, full of stale air and the sense that plenty of people had died here.

    As it was still relatively early in the drinking day, Kain found that he was the only conscience patron at the moment. One or two louts were still slumped on the floor or over the bar, apparently still utterly sozzled after the night before. Kain paid them no mind, instead preferring to find himself a relatively clean seat in one of the darker places of the tavern, now simply sitting and waiting. He wasn't exactly comfortable here, mainly because of the weight of his armour, along with the bulk of his weapons, but it was something he had become used to over the years. A little discomfort was no reason to shed ones protective skin, particularly when in such a potentially dangerous place as this. Although he was sure he could take out any number of drunkards, a swarm of them could be a problem - should he manage to offend them. In any event, there was no point in taking silly risks.

    OOC here
  2. This place? This city? The king had honestly wanted to know the conditions of this dirthole of a town? Andronica doubted it. He just wanted her out of his way so he could continue his stupid, pointless war.

    What seemed to be a woman, perhaps young or not quite all that young, was walking the streets, her hair shifting from one dark, dirty coloration to another while her body underwent slight, nearly imperceptible changes in her height. Nobody really noticed that she was going from one form to another, because she kept picking people who looked very similar as she got out of range of the last one. The problem with doing that was the emotion of these people. They all had the same collection: Anger, fear, pain. The king didn't care about this town. He probably cared about the nobles paying for his war in this town, about giving the impression of a crackdown on its crime by setting up that Baron, but he did not care about these people, and they knew it.

    The more of this diplomacy that Andronica tried, the more she felt like the powerless mother of a bunch of idiotic spoiled brats. He shouldn't be trying to take over more territory when he couldn't even keep what he had under control. Was this really what the gods wanted her doing? She squelched that thought; it was just the doubt of the people around her. There wasn't much faith to be found here, either.

    After just a few minutes she couldn't take this anymore. She thought she was better at this, really, better at staying calm, but the feeling was so pervasive and strong here, and going from one person to another she could find no respite from it. Finally she turned into the emptiest-looking place she could find: an old tavern of some sort, but more importantly, a deserted one.

    She entered quietly, dropping the appearance of the last person she'd been imitating outside, leaving her looking properly thin, 19, and white-haired, and tried to calm herself, purging all of the rage. A moment longer and she would have punched someone for saying hello. And then she probably would have thrown up. That would have confused people.

    It didn't look like anyone had noticed her yet. Good. She scanned the few people who were here, and quickly noticed that the bartender looked relatively calm. That kind of job tended to give one a more neutral demeanor, and that was the sort she needed right now. Again, she imitated, and her body became slightly shorter and stockier, and her hair turned a far less magical color, red to be exact. She paused a moment, trying to take stock of her emotions, and...didn't find much. Boredom, mostly. That would do. She went and took a random seat far from the bar, ignoring the man passed out in the seat opposite her.
  3. Elvira had just finished a long day of hunting. She truly believed she was one of the few left that actually tracked, killed, cooked, and devoured her own food. Many would probably consider her odd, primitive, and even dangerous. She'd say she is just part of the old ways of her people. Regardless of what others thought, if one were standing directly in front of her in a normal conversation they may say differently. Elvira is small, fidgety, shy in public places mostly, and very outspoken if she feels strongly on an opinion or statement. You'd get from her that she doesn't like to be crossed, that she can handle her own, and that she is incredibly resourceful. Although ironically enough, yes she can track and kill her own food easily, but drinks and beverage making she was still quite untalented with. Anything she made in a cup or a drink would taste like strong piss or dry saliva.

    There was something about her though too that made her slightly mysterious yet stunningly beautiful. It was the way she carried herself in a room per say. After her hunt she found herself very thirsty, and seeing as she was terrible at concocting drinks, she approached a tavern in a nearby city with a slew of rabbit furs and a wolf pelt tied around her waist. She certainly has shown everyone she came from the wild, as if an animal just birthed her itself. She opened the doors to this tavern in a gentle push and walked around the room in extreme curiosity suddenly wanting to know everything about the place, from its history to its culture. It wasn't often that she was not hanging around in a wood somewhere after all. She had a strange confidence in the way she moved about the tavern, as if she belonged to the countless beings in the room. The hunters, the patrons, the loggers, the bakers, the beggars, the pirates, the knights, the bards, everything and everyone around her just seemed to fit. She was just another drifter visiting after a long day, or was she?

    The one thing about her that probably sticks out the most is her pointy elven ears. She doesn't know how many elves have visited this city before, or how recently, let alone even nearby. She could very well stick out like a sore thumb to others in the tavern and not even know it. This seemed to be a location that was in the middle of everything so to speak. After feeling the plants in the area and talking to the nearby woodland creatures she gathered that anything and anyone could suddenly appear in this city from all walks of life and all different talents. She was ever so intrigued at the kind of people and creatures she could meet and go on adventures with. She tired of hunting alone and wandering for days getting nowhere but to survive and see the dawn of a new day. She wondered if there was a quest board that maybe the king or queen of such a place might have pinned somewhere. She sighed. She felt that maybe she would feel better if she had a drink or two.

    "Excuse me, bar keep?"

    Elvira gestured to the bar keep some feet away but he paid no attention to her. He wasn't serving anyone, just simply cleaning mugs and snickering to himself. This bar keeper obviously wasn't human, his skin was green and he appeared a bit bigger in size and stature than the average people in the room. Could it Orc? Either or, she wasn't afraid to get loud if she needed to. This was a young lass who was raised by wolves and lived in the wild nearly her whole life and practically alone, too. She had some gull.

    "Excuse me, hello? Bar keep? I know you hear me, you. I'm very tired and-"

    She is still ignored. Now slightly enraged, she grabs a small dagger from her belt and slams it into the bar counter shouting for the bar keep's attention without hesitation.


    There were many stares now befalling on her as she screamed out. She looked around and rolled her eyes. She made a scene, there was no denying it now. She took a deep breath and bowed her head some in small humiliation. She could see now as the bar keep walked up to her that he was indeed an Orc and he was now, not happy.

    "Eh..ehm...excuse me bar keep, I am very tired, I've been living off the surrounding brush for days now and I would like a drink. The water from the streams nearby are not healthy to drink, I could use a large cup of water perhaps?"

    The Orc bar keeper looked her in the eyes with a large and straggled tooth strutting out from his lower lip and slowly began smirking. The smirk then turned into a wide grin. The grin then turned into an echoing laugh. Aside from his unattractive white hairs sprouting out from his wart filled and pointy ears and the giant mole on his right lower cheek, this Orc did not have an admirable laugh either. Saliva jutted out of his mouth and all over Elvira's face. Suddenly many of the surrounding patrons started cracking up in laughter too until minutes later the laughter died down as Elvira sat confused and frustrated and the Orc muttered a small sentence.

    "This is a tavern, Elf! Not a well for babes."

    The Orc then bellowed out a small chuckle and walked away from her. The patrons then continued on with their chatting and dining amongst themselves. Elvira sighed her head and frowned. She whispered to herself.

    "Looks like it's dirty stream water after all."

    She then remained where she was cautiously looking around the Tavern to see if anyone would care to offer her a drink or even guide her kindly to another place that provided some water so she didn't have to sit alone embarrassed by her actions and humiliated by an Orc.
  4. The bear writhed and turned on its back as Vivek spread his fingers wider and wider. The bear's brown fur started to get matted from blood poking its way through. Finally with a quick jerk of Vivek's hand the bear's chest ripped open and its weak, still beating heart lay exposed for him. Vivek pulled out the grey heart embedded in his chest; it smelt sickly and was flaking in places. He threw it aside and pulled out the bear's heart. With some effort and a sickening squishing sound he managed to push it into the hole in his chest. Another heart. Another two weeks of life.

    Vivek's rags threatened to fall off of his spindly form as he walked the dirt road into the city. It was more than he typically wore; he'd stolen it from the owner of his last heart. No one special, just some beggar. His heart was very short-lived. His pale face poked about the city, causing women to gather up their children and inspiring men to cast him the evil eye. Eventually, he found his way into a darkened alley and through the door of a tavern. He could sense a very powerful energy here, stronger than any sorcerer he'd ever encountered. He looked about to try and pin-point the aura, but it seemed to be mingling with everyone it came in contact with. He didn't think anyone had noticed him enter. Vivek silently made his way to a table and sat, staring out at the few other patrons, seeking that entoxicating energy.